I’m never going to stop kissing her. Savage, kissing her breathless, I bring her back to her feet, then back her against the wall. My hand at her throat, I stroke her, holding what’s mine as I explore her with my tongue. Tentative, she explores back, shy and unsure but wanting to learn. I groan into her mouth, a starving man finally at an oasis.
She’s so soft against me, and so much smaller. I could scoop her up, crush her, do whatever I want. It’s her breasts I need to touch first, free of her bra, quivering with each heated breath. Her nipples are big, pushing into my hand. I growl, palming one, grasping it between my fingers.
Mouth down at her breast, I capture it, sucking through the T-shirt, biting down on her nipple.
She gasps. But then she speaks. “Don’t hurt me, Knox,” she pleads, trembling. When I pick my head up I see there are tears in her eyes. “Please, don’t.”
I straighten up. Raking a hand through my hair, I pound my fist against the wall over her head, holding my body tense and still. And away from her.
“Go the fuck to sleep,” I bark, pointing at the bed. She scurries away, quick and afraid, tucking herself under the sheet and blanket. She turns her back to me.
I curse, standing there with my head in my hand. In the bathroom, I splash some water on my face. My hard-on is raging. I could take a cold shower. I could jerk off, but I know nothing will cool me down. There’s no relief but her.
But I’m not going to rape this girl. I’m going crazy, but I will not hurt her. I’m just going to have to hold back. And wait.
Because she wants me. She wants this. She’s just frightened.
I turn out the light and slip into bed, careful to stay on my side of the mattress. Our bodies don’t touch. She’s stiff and tense, hyper-aware. I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling. For hours, long after she’s finally fallen asleep, I listen to her breathing. I watch the rise and fall of her chest, those breasts made for me, that throat milky white, her lips berry red. I will have her. It’s only a matter of time.
7. Olivia
I wake up the next morning wrapped in his arms. I don’t know how we got that way. I don’t want to move. We’re lying side by side, his large, hard body molded to mine. My head is on his bicep, as if I nestled into him at some point in the night. His hand rests on my thigh, possessive and heavy.
I close my eyes again, breathing him in. He smells woodsy and musky and the heat from his body is radiating into mine.
I’ve never felt so safe in my life. I know I’m not. There’s danger outside and in, but my brain isn’t in charge right now. My body is, and every inch of it feels more protected than ever before in my life. Wrapped in his warm embrace, I feel like I’m finally home.
I keep my breathing slow and even, savoring this stolen moment. The second we’re both awake, I’ll have to get my guard back up again. I’ll have to fight my response to him, his advances on me. But it can’t hurt to steal a few more minutes of this.
There must be some sort of endorphin released, a chemical running through my body making me feel so deliciously relaxed. He’s got me. I don’t have to worry about a thing.
Of course the opposite is true, but I can’t stop myself from dreamily remembering last night. I’d known I was asking for trouble the second I’d taken off my bra in the bathroom. My breasts have always embarrassed me, too big, too much to hide. I have D-cups, spilling out of my bras, unable to be tamed.
The bra I’d worn to work the other night didn’t even fit that well. I’d grown out of it. It was a little cotton thing, not enough for breasts like I have. I’d been wearing it for 30 hours. I didn’t want to sleep in it again. I kept my panties on, but I’d removed my bra. I knew it would make me even barer to him, but a small part of me liked that. It should feel wrong to make myself vulnerable, but it doesn’t. It feels so right.
His T-shirt was soft as I slid it over my nearly-naked body. It smelled of him. It felt like being surrounded, owned by him. Way too big, it scooped over my collarbone and hit mid-thigh. It draped down my body, caressing my curves. Walking out to him, surrounded by his scent, all my defenses were down.
When he’d first seen me, his eyes darkened with a predatory gleam. I could tell he liked seeing me in his shirt, as if he’d marked me as his own. Under his gaze, I’d pressed my thighs together, embarrassed yet unable to stop the heat. He couldn’t see that, though.
But he could see my breasts. There was no hiding my reaction there to him. My nipples had tightened, so sensitive, almost as if they called to him and craved his touch. I couldn’t hide as I just stood there, and the way he looked at me just made it worse. He stared at them, watching me blossom for him.
He’d fallen on me like a starving man, and I’d wanted nothing more than his lips, his tongue, his arms and hands. He’d pounced on me and I’d loved it, sighing into him and craving all of it. I’d thought of nothing other than him, wanting to surrender and do everything, anything.
Then he’d bit me.
I’d panicked. No one had ever bit me before. What scared me was how good it felt. It should have repulsed me, made me hate him, but instead my clit throbbed, and I grew juicy wet, as wet as his mouth and tongue had made my breast. It felt so wrong and right all at once. I wanted to beg for more, my other nipple, down where I ached.
That’s what frightened me. One bite and he turned me into a madwoman. I had no control over myself. If he made me like pain so much, where would it stop? I’d never felt that way before, never had crazy crushes on boys, never even sought attention. Now I couldn’t stop myself. I had to rely on him to stop. So I’d begged him to not hurt me.
And he had.
The second he’d done as I’d asked, removing his touch, holding himself stiff and away from me, my body had filled with loss and longing. I’d missed him with an irrational pain. It was ridiculous. I should have felt relieved.
Instead, keeping myself tight to my side of the bed last night, back turned, my body had desperately wanted to cleave to him. I’d lain awake for so long, struggling and confused. When he’d climbed in and lain there, not touching me, I’d wanted to close the distance. I’d almost turned to him, maybe offering words, trying to explain my inexperience and fears. Maybe not saying a thing. My touch could communicate instead.
But I hadn’t done either. I’d talked sense to myself. I should be frightened of him. He’d told me he worked for the mob. He’d probably killed so many people he couldn’t even keep count. I shouldn’t want anything at all from him. My response wasn’t right. He was a criminal, a kidnapper, and I needed to stay away from him. It was good he’d listened to me, good he was staying away.
His body looked like a machine. He’d probably used it to harm and hurt, inflicting pain without mercy.
But he isn’t doing that now. He’s holding me, possessive and protective. I can feel his skin next to mine, his arms and legs. The fire in the wood-burning stove went out overnight, but heat is radiating from his body. We’re under the covers, cocooned, and I never want to leave.
I’ve never felt so horny. He can’t tell, though. With my back to him, under the blanket, he can’t see my nipples pebbling out hard with need. With his hand on my thigh, he can’t feel the heat and wetness seeping through my panties.
I want to squirm, but I make myself stay still, keep my breath even. I blush at the thought, but it’s true—I want to touch myself. Even in that department I’m no expert. I don’t have any sex toys stashed in my bedside table. I usually feel embarrassed about masturbating and don’t do it often. When I do, I just keep things short and simple. To tell the truth, I’m not even sure if I’ve ever had an orgasm. From the way I’ve heard my roommates talk about it, I’m guessing I haven’t.
Even the way I feel right now is so much more intense. I’m like a caramel in the hot sun, my center turning into a gooey mess. He’s not even messing around with me, but the heat from his body and that wall of muscle behind me is driving me crazy.
I feel him awaken. It must be a ch
ange in his breathing pattern, or maybe his limbs are less heavy. I can’t see him, but I can tell. He doesn’t remove his hand from my thigh, and I keep my eyes closed. Unlike yesterday, this time I’m one-hundred-percent awake. Today, I’m faking sleep.
I tell myself it’s because I’m frightened of him. He was so ferocious last night, like an animal sprung out of its cage. That’s what I tell myself.
But the real reason I’m holding still is I’m listening to a naughty voice in my head whispering, “Don’t you want to see what he does?” This may be my only chance. I don’t know what’s coming next. Mobsters are supposedly looking for us. I might get a chance to escape.
Deep down, the truth is that I want to steal a moment with him, here under the covers where no one will know. He moves his hand slowly, so slowly. It’s warm, rough, and big against my thigh. I force myself to keep my breathing regular. I don’t want to break the spell.
The feel of his hand sliding up my thigh drives me crazy. I want him to move faster, race to the finish. I want to part my legs and let him know where I need him to touch. But he stays slow, caressing my inner thigh, drawing lazy circles.
I should stop him. I should scream and kick. I should leap away and tell him to keep his hands off me.
I don’t. I want him to keep going. It feels too good. I don’t know where this is leading, but I know I don’t want him to stop.
8. Knox
When I wake up, she’s in my arms. Her luscious ass is pressed into my huge hammer of a hard-on. She smells so good, her soft hair under my cheek, her thigh under my palm.
Slow, I draw my hand along her leg, down her inner thigh. It’s a playground I never want to leave. She’s an angel, but her curves are made for sin. I’m tense, breathing hard, wondering at any second if she’s going to stop me. Will she wake up and jolt away like last time?
Last time I let her do it. This time, I might not. I might trap her on the bed and teach her how much she likes it. Under the covers, in our bed, she needs to give herself to me. I can feel it pulsing through her veins the same way it’s coursing through mine. We belong together.
I hiss as my fingers make contact. Her little white panties, so simple, nothing seductive yet they kill me. And she’s warm, so warm as I cup her mound. My first touch of what’s mine. I stifle a groan it feels so good, but I want to preserve the silence, even if it’s just to allow her to pretend. She might want to keep her eyes closed, fake she’s still asleep so she can allow herself to do what she wants. Her brain says no, but her sweet little pussy is pushing back into my hand, asking for more.
That’s when I feel it, a perfect damp spot. My fingers go still on it, pressing there, memorizing it. The slick arousal seeps through, my virgin’s needs on display for me. Any conflict, any doubt or guilt I may have felt vanishes. My woman needs this. She needs me to take over and teach her little virgin pussy how good it can feel.
I pull her panties down, wanting them all the way off but not wanting to risk it. She still hasn’t opened her eyes, hasn’t spoken to me. Her nipples are standing out, pressing and insistent through my T-shirt. I’ll get to you, I want to tell them. I’ll give you your time. But right now it’s my woman’s pussy that’s going to get served.
My fingers up again between her legs, I have to bite back my groan when I feel how slick and hot she is for me. It’s like sinking into paradise. My mind goes black, the urge to rut and breed nearly driving me insane. This woman is mine. I’m going to fill her with my seed, plow into her mercilessly over and over until she’s growing my baby.
But first she’s going to cum. Working in a rhythm, I coax her, draw out her slickness, tease that swollen little bud. I’m pressed against her side, my cock grinding into her plush ass, but I’m so much bigger than her I can look down see her face. Her mouth is open, those berry pink lips parted, little pants coming out.
That’s good. I smile, knowing she’s enjoying it. She’s not ready to admit it, but that will come. I’d break her down, make her body take over, teach her how she needs to be my little slut. She needs it every hour of the day and night, she needs no clothes on, me taking her mouth, her pussy, her ass like a savage beast.
Subtle, only a slight shift, she pushes her ass against my cock. That’s it. I shift and nestle my huge shaft right between her cheeks, right where I can pump it.
My fingers move faster, taking her further. She’s conflicted, but her pussy isn’t. I’m going to give it what it needs.
Her eyes open, but she starts pushing against me, bucking into my fingers. It’s the little sound she makes that finally makes me snap. It’s a coo, a breathy plea for more, not a word but a primal calling to me, her mate.
I fall on her, my mouth to her neck, licking and sucking. I want to mark this virgin, brand her, make her mine forever. First she’s going to cum for me. She’s so close, her body trembling, her breath coming in pants. She’s working in rhythm with my fingers, grinding back, asking for more. She’s dripping wet, gushing for me.
She tenses, trembling, and I growl, knowing this is it. Her sweet little mouth parts wider, her eyes finally opening as her orgasm engulfs her. I sink my teeth into her tender throat, sucking, marking as she moans and gasps, cumming into my waiting hand, creaming for me like she was made to do. I milk it from her, taking it all, making her shudder and quake as I lick her neck.
She’s mine now. She’s mine to take and teach. She’s ripe and ready for more.
She shifts, looking up at me and I’ve never seen her look more glorious, flushed and glowing, her hair around her on her pillow. I take my hand from her pussy and bring it to my lips, giving my fingers a long, slow lick. I have to close my eyes to savor her taste, so perfectly sweet and salty, her own brand of nectar.
When I open them, she’s across the room running for the door. I watch her for a second, my body sagging heavy. Really? She’s running again?
She opens the front door and flees the cabin. In bare feet and a short-sleeved shirt in the northern Wisconsin winter. This shit is getting old. Soon she’ll learn she can’t get away from me. She’s never getting away from me. She’s mine.
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Taken By The SEAL will be available in September, 2017. Want to find out as soon as it’s live and take advantage of an introductory, limited-time 99c price? You can sign up for my newsletter to get the info on all my new releases, sales and giveaways: Callie Harper Newsletter
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About the Author
Callie Harper writes hot, fun, page-turning romances. She is powered by coffee, wickedly sexy bad boys, and all things funny, intentional or otherwise. Born on the East Coast where she learned the joys of fast-paced sarcastic banter, she and her family are now kickin’ it in the West Coast sunshine. On any given day there’s a good chance you’ll find Callie outdoors enjoying the gorgeous Bay Area, but if she’s indoors she’ll likely be reading, writing or eating, preferably all at once.
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Acknowledgements
My first thanks goes to my husband, for his support in all things great and small. You rock my world. Next goes to my children, who make me laugh every day and always remind me what really matters in life.
Thank you to my readers! I’m so glad you picked up this book. I hope you’ll be back for more. You make it fun to write!
A huge shout out to all my beta readers and to my ARC readers who helped spread the word.
A special thank you to Sophie. You are organized, funny, kind, patient, creative and an all-around joy to work wi
th. I’m so grateful to know you! And Emilie, I’m so excited to be working with you now, too. Can’t wait to see what we can all accomplish together!
Perfect Pear Creative designed the fantastic cover. It’s so gorgeous. A big thank you to helpmeedit.net for proofreading. Thanks to Kylie and the rest of the group at Give Me Books and all of the other wonderful bloggers who’ve invited me to do takeovers, shared their reviews of my ARCs, and generally helped spread the Callie Harper word.
An enormous thank you to Lauren Blakely for her advice, encouragement, humor and friendship. Thank you to all of the fantastic, entertaining writers I adore reading. I love being a part of this indie author community!
All I Need: Ian & Annie Page 28